Chapter Five — Celeste’s Bargain
Celeste Monroe entered the federal interview room wearing plain gray clothing and no makeup.
Without the scarlet dresses, diamonds, and champagne, she looked smaller.
But not harmless.
Never harmless.
Agent Price sat across from her. Two prosecutors observed through the glass. Marcus and I watched from a secure video room at the hospital.
My father had refused to attend.
He said seeing Celeste might make him forget the difference between justice and revenge.
The recording began.
Celeste folded her hands on the table.
“I want protection.”
Agent Price opened a folder.
“You are facing charges involving conspiracy, wire fraud, unlawful restraint, evidence tampering, and assault.”
“I didn’t hold the whip.”
“You counted.”
Celeste’s eyes flickered.
“Nathan was violent long before I met him.”
“Then why encourage him?”
“I had to maintain control.”
“Control over what?”
Celeste leaned back.
“Over Nathan.”
Agent Price waited.
Celeste hated silence. She always filled it.
“Nathan was useful,” she continued. “He had access to routes, company systems, banking relationships. But he was emotional.”
I almost laughed at the hypocrisy.
“Daniel needed someone inside Ashford Global,” Celeste said.
Agent Price placed a photograph of Daniel on the table.
“This man?”
Celeste looked at it.
“Yes.”
“How do you know him?”
“He financed my brother’s freight company.”
“And recruited you?”
“He gave me a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Help him, or watch my brother go to prison.”
Agent Price’s expression remained unchanged.
“Your brother had already committed crimes.”
Celeste’s jaw tightened.
“Daniel controlled the evidence.”
“So you infiltrated Nathan’s company.”
“I became a consultant.”
“You became his mistress.”
“That was not part of the original plan.”
In the video room, Marcus raised an eyebrow.
Celeste continued.
“Nathan wanted me. I used it.”
“And Evelyn?”
“She became an obstacle.”
Agent Price leaned forward.
“An obstacle to what?”
Celeste stared at the table.
“To the trusts.”
“What did Daniel want from Whitmore Point?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“That answer will not help you.”
“He wanted access to a data vault beneath the terminal.”
My father had told me about Whitmore Point’s secure infrastructure. But I had never heard of a data vault.
Marcus immediately began typing on his laptop.
“What is stored there?” Agent Price asked.
“Flight systems. Encryption software. Security architecture. I don’t know.”
“Did Daniel intend to sell it?”
Celeste hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wanted to trade it.”
“To whom?”
“I never learned the name.”
Agent Price closed the folder.
“Then you have given us very little.”
Celeste’s composure cracked.
“I can give you Nathan.”
“We already have Nathan.”
“I can give you the account passwords.”
“We already have them.”
“I can give you Daniel’s emergency contact procedure.”
Agent Price stopped.
“How does it work?”
“If something goes wrong, I send a message through a private network. He gives instructions.”
“When did you last contact him?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“What did you say?”
“That Evelyn had collected evidence.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he order?” Agent Price asked.
Celeste did not answer.
Agent Price’s voice hardened.
“What did Daniel Whitmore tell you to do?”
Celeste looked toward the camera.
Toward me.
Even though she could not see the video room, I felt as if she knew I was watching.
“He said Nathan had to destroy her credibility before sunrise.”
“How?”
“Force her into an emotional confrontation. Record it selectively. Make it appear she was violent and irrational.”
“And the assault?”
“That was Nathan.”
“You corrected the count.”
Celeste swallowed.
“I needed Nathan committed.”
“To what?”
“To crossing a line he could never explain.”
The cruelty had not been random.
Celeste had wanted Nathan implicated beyond rescue.
She wanted him desperate, isolated, and easier to blame.
“What was supposed to happen after that?” Agent Price asked.
“We would call a private physician. Evelyn would be sedated and transferred to a psychiatric facility.”
My hand closed around the blanket.
Marcus glanced at me but said nothing.
“The physician was working for Daniel?” Agent Price asked.
“Yes.”
“And once Evelyn was declared incompetent?”
“Nathan would activate the property agreements.”
“The forged agreements.”
“He believed they were real.”
“Then what?”
“We would access Whitmore Point.”
Agent Price studied her.
“And Evelyn?”
Celeste’s eyes dropped.
“She would remain in treatment.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
It was a lie.
We all knew it.
Agent Price let the silence stretch.
Celeste began breathing faster.
Finally, she whispered, “Daniel said permanent problems required permanent solutions.”
Marcus shut his laptop.
For the first time, his professional calm vanished.
Agent Price’s expression became colder.
“Are you saying Daniel intended to kill Evelyn?”
“I’m saying I was afraid of what he would do.”
“But not afraid enough to warn her.”
Celeste started crying.
“I made mistakes.”
Agent Price did not react.
“You built a criminal conspiracy around the destruction of another woman’s life.”
“Nathan hurt her.”
“And you applauded.”
“I never touched her.”
“Cruelty does not require physical contact.”
Celeste covered her face.
The interview continued for another hour.
She gave them the emergency network.
She provided names, account locations, and coded phrases.
She described a planned transfer at Whitmore Point scheduled for that evening.
Her information was valuable.
But it did not absolve her.
When the interview ended, Agent Price came to the hospital.
“She will receive consideration for cooperation,” she told me. “Not immunity.”
“How much consideration?”
“That depends on whether her information prevents further crimes.”
I looked toward the dark window.
“Will she go to prison?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“That will be decided later.”
I nodded.
It was not the dramatic punishment people imagined in stories.
There was no instant sentence.
No perfect balance.
Justice moved through evidence, hearings, motions, negotiations, and time.
But it moved.
Agent Price placed a new photograph on the table.
“This came from Whitmore Point twenty minutes ago.”
It showed a man entering the terminal through an employee access gate.
Gray hair.
Gray coat.
Daniel Whitmore.
“He’s there,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Then arrest him.”
“We can’t find him inside the facility.”
“How is that possible?”
Agent Price pointed to a lower level on the terminal blueprint.
“He accessed an underground maintenance corridor that does not appear on the current plans.”
My father entered the room behind her.
“It appears on the old ones,” he said.
Agent Price turned.
Dad held a yellowed architectural folder.
“Daniel designed that corridor thirty years ago.”
“Where does it lead?” she asked.
“To the data vault.”
May you like
The operation was no longer approaching.
It had already begun.
